


the song of the words we shared

by ShitabuKenjirou



Series: Tumblr drabbles [8]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, i'm ace okay i know nothing about this shit, inaccurate descriptions of parties, inaccurate descriptons of sexual attraction, that refers to the sexual attraction bit but i don't know shit about parties either, tumblr drabble based on a prompt posted here for organizational reasons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 19:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15031697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitabuKenjirou/pseuds/ShitabuKenjirou
Summary: This was the only time Shirabu allowed himself to be dragged along to a party. But in retrospect, he couldn't say he really minded all that much.





	the song of the words we shared

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there pals :D
> 
> I'm dumping some old tumblr drabbles I wrote on request on here for proper organization of my writing, and this is one of them. I'll post them chronologically, and I'll update the series if I write anything new in the future. I'm sorry if you've already read this, I hope to post some actual new content soon once I have the time and means to do so.
> 
> This drabble is based on the prompt 'a whisper in the ear' from a "the way you said 'I love you'" prompt list. Enjoy!!

“Do I  _ have _ to go?”

“Yes, you have to,” Yahaba decided stubbornly, crossing his arms against his chest. “I know you don’t like clubs–”

“I despise them with every cell in my body,” Shirabu interrupted him. Yahaba gave him a look, and Shirabu rolled his eyes. 

“–but it’s Watari’s birthday,” Yahaba went on, “and you know how much he likes you.”

Shirabu sighed, and sent one of his signature glares Yahaba’s way. It didn’t bother Yahaba much; after dating him approximately one year and a half, he’d gotten used to Shirabu’s ways. 

“Fine,” Shirabu caved. “But I’m going to complain the whole time.”

“I didn’t expect anything else,” Yahaba said airily, grabbing a clean t-shirt from his wardrobe and pulling it over his head. “Just no complaining around the birthday boy, all right? We don’t want to break his heart.”

“Knowing Watari, he’d bounce back in no time,” Shirabu pointed out, inspecting Yahaba’s change of clothing carefully. “His soul is too bright and pure to be tainted. Unlike yours.”

“Just go change, you moron. I don’t want to see you leave the house wearing a t-shirt that’s more holes than fabric.”

“Hey, I like this shirt!” Shirabu protested. “And I know you do, too,” he added, pointing a finger at Yahaba, almost accusingly.

“I do  _ not _ , it’s hideous,” Yahaba lied as smoothly as he could. “Hurry up a little, we’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Shirabu was silent for a few seconds before he chuckled lowly. “All right then. Since it’s a party, I’ll just wear a crop top. Fits the mood, don’t you think?”

Yahaba’s face flushed in record time, and Shirabu cackled loudly when Yahaba swore under his breath.

~~~

“Aah, there they are! The saltiest couple alive!” Watari exclaimed, pulling Yahaba and Shirabu into a hug at the same time, despite Shirabu’s protest.

“Happy birthday,” Shirabu congratulated him, raising his voice to be heard over the loud, droning music. “Where are the others?”

“Somewhere in the crowd,” Watari added, nearly yelling to make himself audible. “I just stayed here to make sure everyone could make it. Now that the fashionably late have also made it, it’s time to have fun!”

Shirabu gave Yahaba a look that conveyed he and Watari did in no way agree on the definition of ‘fun’.

Before Shirabu had a chance to mope or complain, however, Watari grabbed Shirabu by the wrist and started tugging him towards the packed dancefloor. 

“Hey, wait–” Shirabu protested, glancing helplessly at Yahaba. Yahaba just smiled and waved at him. 

His chuckle at Shirabu’s betrayed expression was lost in the music.

After aimlessly wandering through the club, squeezing through the tight gaps between talking and dancing people, gaze searching for familiar faces, Yahaba found Kindaichi and Kunimi at the bar at in the back side of the club, having a drink and a chat.

“Hey, look who’s finally here,” Kindaichi said as soon as he spotted Yahaba, and got up from the bar stool to give him a hug. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been ages,” Yahaba agreed, and smiled at Kunimi once Kindaichi released him. Kunimi gave him a wave in return.

“Where’s your saltma– I mean, boyfriend?” Kindaichi asked, peering over Yahaba’s shoulder. 

“Watari’s got him captive on the dancefloor,” Yahaba said, sitting down on an empty stool next to Kunimi. “I bet he’s angry at me for leaving him alone.”

“Isn’t he, like, always angry though?” Kunimi interjected, and Yahaba chuckled.

“Well, you’d be surprised–”

“ _ Yahaba fucking Shigeru. _ ”

Yahaba froze. Kunimi coughed a laugh into his fist.

Shirabu came into view, his bangs sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. Yahaba tried very hard not to focus on how Shirabu’s exposed abdomen shone with a layer of sweat, how his hipbones disappeared into a pair of leather pants that were both way too low and way too tight.

“Oh fuck, he’s hot,” Kindaichi cursed underneath his breath.

_ My thoughts exactly _ .

Shirabu came to a halt in front of Yahaba, and grabbed the front of Yahaba’s t-shirt, pulling him forward until their faces nearly touched. “You’d better be paying for my drinks tonight.”

“What exactly were you saying just now, Yahaba?” Kunimi asked him, a mocking grin on his face.

“Consider it done,” Yahaba breathed, caught in Shirabu’s intense gaze. “But dance with me first.”

Shirabu stepped back, frowning. “What? Not again. Dancing with Watari was more dancing I ever want to do in my entire life.”

Yahaba heard the music slow around him – just what he’d hoped – and smiled. He got up from the bar stool, and intertwined his fingers with Shirabu’s. 

“You’re just going to have to let me lead.”

Shirabu groaned, but didn’t protest otherwise as he got dragged to the dancefloor for the second time in ten minutes. 

Once they found a spot, Shirabu pulled his hand back, and hooked them around Yahaba’s neck instead. Yahaba felt tiny electical shocks shoot through his fingers when he placed his hands on Shirabu’s hips.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you drooling just now,” Shirabu murmured, just loud enough to rise above the music. “Looks like I got the reaction I hoped to get.”

“You really need to stop teasing me like this,” Yahaba huffed. “It’s awfully distracting.”

Shirabu responded by grinding his hips lightly against Yahaba’s, just enough pressure to notice.

“I hate you.”

Shirabu grinned. “That’s what you get for dragging me to places I don’t want to be.”

“You seems to have a wonderful time though,” Yahaba knocked back, swaying them from side to side to the rhythm of the beat.

“Only because I got you to tease.”

“I really hope Watari made you suffer just now.”

Shirabu chuckled, but didn’t say anything. The song climbed into the chorus, and Yahaba kept his eyes on Shirabu as he closed his eyes, getting lost in the melody. Shirabu’s arms slid down Yahaba’s chest and settled on his back, and not much later he rested his forehead against Yahaba’s shoulder. 

The music was like a cocoon, keeping them together as they swayed to both the rhythm of the song and to something entirely their own. It was easy to forget that there were countless people around him, when the whole world, everything he needed, was right in Yahaba’s arms.

When the song came to a close, Shirabu lifted his head, eyes heavy-lidded as he rose onto the tips of his toes and leaned in close, his lips brushing Yahaba’s ear when he spoke softly.

“I love you.”

And Yahaba had known. He had known Shirabu did, had seen it in all the small gestures, in all the subtle touches and meaningful looks. 

And yet, having it said to him, loud and clear, made his chest ache and burn; the way it had when he’d first held Shirabu’s hand, when they had their first kiss, when they moved in together and he had woken up right next to him for the first time.

Words couldn’t be taken back, and that’s exactly why Shirabu used them, as shields, as weapons, as gifts. As a way of irrevocably connecting them.

And since Yahaba was a man of actions rather than words, the way he pulled Shirabu in, gently brushed Shirabu’s cheeks with his thumbs before connecting his lips with Shirabu’s, conveyed his reply crystal clear.

_ I love you too _ .

**Author's Note:**

> Can I just say,, I wrote this thing ages ago but I'm still in love with the idea of Shirabu wearing crop tops. dAMN
> 
> Hit me up @shitabukenjirou on tumblr if you feel like it!


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